


Soldiering On

by Aquatics



Category: Desert Peach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eye Trauma, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 11:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17600600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatics/pseuds/Aquatics
Summary: Pfirsich arrives in time, and gains a different traveling partner.





	Soldiering On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [printfogey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "Holding on"
> 
> Content warnings: Minor character commits suicide off-screen.
> 
> Disclaimer: This fic may not be historically accurate. Future research may yield revisions.
> 
> Great thanks to my beta, Lilith.

The world is spinning. The train is dark and cramped. It starts rolling, slowly, slowly, before stopping with a loud bang. Someone grabs his shoulders. ”Schmidt, you’re wanted.” The door is open. A kick from behind sends him flying, landing on the ground with a sharp thwack. Sharp pain vibrates through his wrists, melding with the agony in his head.  
  
”You brutes!” A familiar voice snarls.  
  
Udo rubs his good eye, squinting as it grows accustomed to the light. The form above him wears a blond halo and a soiled, though stylish army coat. It winces audibly as it bends down, then turns away. ”What have you done to him!?”  
  
Udo clenches his eye shut, preparing to be tugged off. He's dreaming. The fever must have reached his brain.  
  
”Shot in the eye, sir..” Winzig’s voice is flat and hollow. ”He’ll live. It’s been seen to.”  
  
”Good. He’d better.” The figure says. He takes a deep breath, before lowering his voice. ”Dear? Can you stand?”  
  
Udo’s ears sharpen. He nods, rising on unsteady legs. When he opens his eye, Colonel Rommel is standing next to him, leaning on a walking stick. Udo rubs his eye, trying to remove the hallucination.  
  
”Udo, dear.” A soft smile covers the former Colonel’s face. ”It’s not.. Oh, posh.” He draws a sharp breath, before wrapping his arms around Udo’s small frame. Udo grips the sides of his coat, holding on for balance. The fever is still making him dizzy. Yet, he doesn’t feel quite as cold.  
  
The Colonel grunts as they separate, steadying himself on the walking stick. Udo wonders vaguely if he should ask about it, but soon forgets it in the commotion of leaving. He lets the Colonel do all the talking, standing behind as he’s used to doing. Anything he does could get him back on a train, or get them in trouble. Possibly both. The fever is rising, and he’s starting to doubt reality.  
  
Papers are collected and signed. The road back to the highway is short and goes through several large fields. Keeping up with the Colonel is no struggle, not with the stick. They do not speak until they have walked far enough for the camp officers not to change their minds and come after them.  
  
”Mein Herr?”  
  
The Colonel’s strained expression gives way to the ghost of a smile. He looks like a scarecrow come to life, clipped beauty fading to untamed Weismüller.  
  
Udo blushes. ”You didn’t come all this way to rescue me, right?”  
  
The Colonel bites his lower lip. ”I would have come looking for you eventually, dear. Though, I confess that I did not expect to meet Winzig, and I did not expect to meet you.”  
  
”Who were you expectin’ to meet?”  
  
”Rosen, or some trace of him.” The Colonel sighs. He takes his hat in his arms, straightening it. ”Unfortunately, fate was not very kind to us.” He glances at his hand. A white, untanned mark runs over the ring finger.  
  
”Oh. That’s bad.” Udo frowns, adjusting his eyes to gaze at the sky. It is no use- his thoughts keep falling apart. ”That’s the plan, then?”  
  
”What?”  
  
”We go look for Rosen.”  
  
The Colonel sighs. ”You needn’t, you know. We can just go to the nearest train station, pop you ahead to Berlin.”  
  
Udo swallows. He doesn’t like thinking about what’s in Berlin, or rather, what’s not. He rubs absentmindedly at his bandage, glancing at the wide folds in the Colonel’s coat.  
  
”Are your knees still…?”  
  
The Colonel nods silently.  
  
”In that case, you can’t go alone. My conscience won’t allow it.”  
  
”I am capable of getting by on my own, dear.” He bangs the stick in the ground, wincing as he bends his knee.  
  
”And if they get infected? I’ve been in the army for some time, Mein Herr. I’ve seen how bad it can get.” He points to his eye. "'Course, it's not that bad now-"  
  
The Colonel goes silent. He looks at Udo, before frowning. A pair of new lines form at the side of his face. ”Heavens, dear. You’re injured. How could I forget about that?” He motions for Udo to come closer, inspecting the bandage. An exasperated sigh makes Udo feel a pang of guilt.  
  
”This needs to be cleaned.” The Colonel spits on his hand(in the daintiest possible manner), and rubs the rim of dirt away from the edge of the bandage. He takes one look inside, and wrinkles his nose, before brushing against Udo’s forehead. ”Darling, you’re quite warm.”  
  
”I’ve marched through worse.”  
  
The Colonel shakes his head. ”Verdammt. What are they thinking? Weren’t the camps enough? Oh, dear. We need to put chemicals on this.” He fiddles with his bag, produces a pill, and places it in Udo’s hand, before handing him a water bottle. ”It will bring down the fever and numb the pain.”  
  
Udo shakes his head. ”Save it. It’s not that bad.” He glances at the Colonel’s knees.  
  
”Very well, dear. If you insist. But we need to have that bandage redone.” The Colonel pats his shoulder. ”There’s a village through that direction. With any luck, they’ll have work.”  
  
Udo catches the Colonel’s hand, pressing it to his other shoulder. The Colonel heaves a sigh of relief, leaning on Udo as they stumble towards the road.  
  
——  
  
The village is small, and nearly abandoned. They search the area for food, maps, or any work that can be had. One of the villagers is kind enough to mark a few spots on the map. Another offers them supper and a bed in exchange for translation work, which they happily accept. Udo chats with the rest of the family, while the Colonel dutifully transcribes a series of letters. Dinner is bread and cabbage soup, which is more than both of them have had for days.  
  
They settle by the fire in the living room, regaling the family with tales of their days in Afrika. There isn’t much schnapps, but enough for a sip or two to go round. The family has little against an officer, as their son served in France. After good-nights have been said, the Colonel goes to borrow the first aid kit. Udo settles on a mattress spread close to the fireplace, drawing his coat closer. He hasn’t removed it for days, and he’s not planning to, lest it get stolen.  
  
The Colonel sinks down next to him, gently undoing the safety pin. He disinfects his hands, then rolls the bandage off as best he can, cringing at the sight.  
  
Udo frowns. ”Is it, uhm... How bad is it?”  
  
”We probably need to see a doctor.” The Colonel sighs. ”It’s swollen and I don’t like the colour. It clashes with the rest of your skin.” He swabs the pus away in small, delicate strokes, making it easier for Udo not to wince. The Colonel’s hands are larger than Winzig’s, but more gentle.  
  
”It’ll heal. It’s just been badly cared for, is all.” Udo clenches his eyes shut. A cool pressure makes him grit his teeth, tensing up as the pain shoots through his head.  
  
”Es tut mir leid...” The Colonel mumbles, working as softly as he can. Udo unclenches his fists, feeling the tension melt into the ground. He wants to ask the Colonel about the road, where they’re headed and what they’ll do, but the hour is late, and he feels more tired than he has in a long, long time. He’s vaguely aware of someone tucking him in, ruffling his hair as he buries his nose in the pillow.  
  
—-  
  
They set out the next day, after confirming that there are no trucks in the surrounding area. The Colonel mutters something about purchasing medical supplies. Udo’s fever has lessened. The breeze is picking up, rattling the map. His fists clench around it.  
  
”If we can go around here, we’ll be able to reach that town before nightfall. It looks big enough for the occupying forces.”  
  
”You sure? There aren’t any villages around. We might have to spend the night outdoors.”  
  
Udo glances at the Colonel’s knees. He wants to ask how far he usually walks in a day, but Udo figures he’ll learn soon, anyway. The breeze picks up, leading the Colonel to tuck in Udo’s scarf. His fingers are slenderer than they should be, though his palms are still warm.  
  
The breeze turns into a gale. When the sun strikes four, they agree to ask for shelter at the nearest farmhouse. Salvation comes in the form of a large, gray plaster house with fancy woodwork and a small barn, partially converted to an empty garage.  
  
They knock on the door, then wait for about five minutes. The Colonel knocks again. After ten minutes, Udo fingers the the door handle.  
  
The door flies open to reveal a well-decorated hallway, hunting trophies hanging from the walls. The carpet is surprisingly ornate. The Colonel frowns at Udo, who shrugs, then goes completely still. A silhouette is hanging across the room.  
  
The Colonel covers his mouth, face growing white. After twenty seconds of silence, Udo places his hand on the Colonel’s shoulder.  
  
”Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”  
  
The corpse is dressed in fine leather boots and a threadbare tailcoat. Someone clearly wanted a nice funeral. Or the honour of sparing someone the effort. The body doesn’t bother Udo much, he’s seen enough of those. What does bother him is the fact that someone committed the deed in a home, of all places.  
  
A small note lies on the table. The handwriting is ornate, but legible. It’s a brief farewell to the world, from someone who would most likely have been tried and shot for war crimes. Udo places it in his pocket, then carries the corpse out to the barn.  
  
”Sorry about yer trousers, sir.” He mumbles, adjusting the man’s jacket. From a distance, it looks just like a dandy taking a break. He salutes it in jest, and returns inside. There is no blood, no phlegm, nor any trace of the unfortunate act. He silently thanks the departed for being vain enough not to make a mess.  
  
”Mein Herr? It’s alright. I’ve put him away.”  
  
The Colonel nods silently, entering the room. Coal from a recent fire glows in the fireplace. He sombrely regards the surroundings, before sinking into a chair. Udo turns his attention to the kitchen, scavenging the pantry. The ice-box holds cold meat, cheese, and eggs. Delicacies which can only come from a wealthy patron of the black market.  
  
”Hey, this is fresh! It’ll go bad if we leave it.” Udo fails at covering up the marvel in his voice. ”That means we’re good to cook with it, right?”  
  
The Colonel sighs. ”I suppose, dear.”  
  
Neither of them want to address the topic of stealing a dead man’s food. Udo has no qualms about doing so, but the Colonel is a gentleman. Even now, with dirt on his face and stubble turning into a beard.  
  
Udo searches the adjacent closet, and finds a still lukewarm shower bowl with shaving cream. The water is quickly discarded through the kitchen door. The wind threatens to steal his coat. He grits his teeth, buttons it up, and grabs a bucket, teeth chattering as he braves the cold to work the near-frozen pump. It splutters, before filling the bucket with water.  
  
He gets back inside, finds a pot, and puts it on the stove, only to find the Colonel standing next to it, stirring a smaller pot. An empty glass bottle lies on the counter. The stove must still be warm. It’s hard to tell, with this fever.  
  
”This doesn’t feel very admirable.” The Colonel sighs. ”If only we’d been here a little earlier.”  
  
Udo hands him the note. ”We would have gotten in his way. He seemed pretty dead-set on things.”  
  
The Colonel’s eyes narrow as he reads the note. He pockets it with a deep sigh. ”You may have a point, but I still wish we could have talked him out of it.”  
  
”We don’t know if he’d open the door for us. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”  
  
The Colonel looks down into the milk, saying nothing.  
  
Udo frowns, internally berating himself for telling the Colonel the last thing he needs to hear. He bites his lip, before remembering the stove. ”There’s water for shaving, if Mein Herr wants it.”  
  
A faint smile covers the Colonel’s cheeks. ”That’s very kind of you, Udo. Do you have any shaving cream?”  
  
Udo shakes his head. ”There should be some in the house.”  
  
The Colonel rubs his temples. ”I’d rather not be stealing at all. He might have starving relations.”  
  
Udo shrugs. ”He’s got fresh beef and cold milk. He’s either rich, or highly illegal. The former gives his folks everything. The latter gives them nothing, unless we know them personally.”  
  
The Colonel closes his eyes, furrowing his brow. Finally, he turns to Udo.  
  
”Would you fetch us some cups?”  
  
Udo complies, eyes widening as the cups are filled with light-brown liquid, smelling unmistakably of Ovomaltine. His hands shake as he lifts the cup to his face, savouring the sweet, malty flavour. How long has it been, three years? Nobody has real milk anymore. He fails to control himself, nearly burning his tongue as he fights not to down the entire thing.  
  
The Colonel smiles fondly at him, leaning against the stove. He removes his coat, hanging it on a nearby hook. The army sweater is two sizes too short, yet it clings to his sinews like a well-fitted shirt. Udo wonders if he looks the same, before realising that he probably looks even worse. He draws the jacket closer.  
  
The Colonel sets the cup aside, observing Udo from top to toe. ”Would you mind removing that?”  
  
Udo pauses, before setting to unbuttoning it. He cringes at the lack of warmth—his fever is lowered, but not yet gone. The Colonel takes the coat from him, hangs it on the hook, and shakes his head. ”You’re long overdue for a bath, dear.”  
  
”That’s what the water is for. If we heat enough, we might be able to do laundry.”  
  
The Colonel’s worn face softens into a smile, looking years younger. ”Oh, darling...” He sighs. ”I could hug you, here and now.”  
  
Udo pats his shoulder, noting the all-too flimsy fabric. The Colonel slides his arm around his shoulders, pressing him close. Everything about it is wrong: the Colonel is too thin, not warm enough, and smells of coal and gunfire instead of shaving water and eau de cologne.  
  
Udo’s breath catches in his throat. A million thoughts whirl though his mind, all culminating in the simple knowledge that the Colonel is here, the Colonel is holding him, and neither of them are in mortal danger. He slips his arms around the Colonel’s midsection, resting his head against the taller man’s chest. This is as close to safety as he has been in the last year, and he is loathe to make the smallest move to dispel the profound relief of this moment. A hand reaches down to pat his shoulder, making him cling for dear life.  
  
They hug for what feels like hours, until the Colonel ruffles his hair, directing him to the washroom. Udo helps the Colonel shave first, a task he hadn’t known he could miss. The only things available for the job are shaving knives. Udo struggles to keep his hands steady, lest he cut into skin. Once finished, he presents the Colonel with a mirror.  
  
Afterwards, the Colonel gives a small gasp at his reflection. The smile on his face makes Udo’s heart swell with pride, whistling as he wipes the Colonel’s face dry. A hand on his arm makes him pause. the Colonel gets up, places his hands on Udo’s shoulders, and presses him firmly into the chair.  
  
”Mein Herr?” He swallows, conscious of the Colonel’s hand on his chin.  
  
”Hold still, dear.” The Colonel fingers steady his head. ”We might not get another chance to do this for some time.” Something cold and sticky makes its way over Udo’s chin, causing him to clench his eye shut. He’s never liked shaving—it’s far too easy to nick himself. The Colonel’s grip is firm and steady, causing the blade to glide smoothly. Udo’s breathing slows. By the time the mirror is brought forth, his eye has relaxed.  
  
”There’s my Prussian officer.” The Colonel nods in satisfaction, pressing the towel to his chin. ”It’s a shame we don’t have anything nicer for you to wear.”  
  
”I like the coat. It’s warm.”  
  
”I see your point, but it’s far too large. It should nip your waist in, like a proper jacket.”  
  
Udo blushes, and says nothing more. The Colonel frowns. ”Of course, you can fit a lot more clothing under it. Perhaps it’s better for the road, that way.” He smiles sadly, before grabbing the bucket and going outside, leaving Udo to contemplate himself in the mirror.  
  
He’s never considered himself ‘handsome’, though it is nice to feel marginally cleaner. The wrapping sticks out like a sore thumb, and the pain is ever-present. Udo pokes at the bandages, frowning as they come off. His eye is still swollen. A clear film of pus covers the lens, and it hurts to keep it open. He covers it up with his hand, flinching as he grazes the reddened skin.  
  
There are no bandages to be found in the washroom. He searches the kitchen, causing the Colonel, returning, to shake his head. ”Give me the bandage. I’ll boil it along with the bath water.” Two large pots stand on the stove. Udo complies with a nod.  
  
”Honestly. Did nobody care for this?” The Colonel grips his face gently, frowning as he inspects the wound.  
  
”Winzig used to. Before he joined the occupation.”  
  
The Colonel’s nose wrinkles ever so slightly.  
  
”Right. You saw him.” Udo nods.  
  
”Yes, I did. Perhaps it would have been better if I hadn’t. It would have kept some memories unsullied.”  
  
Udo closes his eyes, acutely aware of the same. ”...I agree, Mein Herr.” The thought of Winzig’s focused expression causes his heart to clench.  
  
”Let’s talk about other things.” The Colonel sighs, squeezing his shoulder. ”Did you see any towels?”  
  
Udo shakes his head, and rushes off to ransack the rest of the house.  
  
The top floor yields a well-stocked liquor cabinet, towels, a tub, and nightshirts in several sizes. He feeds the fire in the bedroom fireplace, glancing at the bed with heightened interest. It’s been months since he last saw a -proper- bed, not just some bare mattress, or a blanket thrown on the floor. Some rummaging turns up a sweater in the Colonel’s usual size, a treasure that Udo stows beneath his arm, whistling as he pulls the tub downstairs. The smell of roasted onions and beef permeates the air, making Udo recall just how hungry he is.  
  
”Would you like to take the first bath? The food will be a while, I’m afraid.” The Colonel smiles shyly from the stove.  
  
Udo doesn’t use much water—he’s already far too dirty. The water turns dark grey in no time at all, though the heat is welcome. If a little futile.  
  
The Colonel looks appalled. ”..How long ago did you last wash?”  
  
”..Three months, Mein Herr?”  
  
”Three months!?” The Colonel blanches. ”And I thought twice a week was bad.”  
  
”A moment to undo, Mein Herr. In fact, I’m nearly done.”  
  
The Colonel shakes his head. ”You’re not, dear. Hand me the sponge.”  
  
Udo gives it to him without a word. The Colonel leans down next to him, grunting as his knees hit the floor. He holds Udo’s shoulder to steady himself, digging the sponge into Udo’s back, making him yelp. Udo hasn’t felt this vulnerable since his eye was hit. Yet, it doesn’t really seem to bother him all that much, which in turn sends a shudder down his spine. ”... I’ll do the front...” He mumbles, drawing his legs closer to his body.  
  
The Colonel hands the sponge back, allowing him to wash in peace. Udo makes sure to cover every single piece of skin, under the irrational fear that the Colonel might do so instead. He catches his train of thought, shaking it out of his head as so many times before. It's completely illogical, he reminds himself. The Colonel would never do that, and he's had more than ample chances.  
  
The towels are soft and warm. He silently thanks the Colonel for hanging them by the fire, and takes the discarded clothes, folding them properly on the counter. The Colonel himself is a sorry sight, far from the handsome officer of yore. He’s lost fat in places that need to be fat, and his muscles look toned to a sickly degree.  
  
”Go eat something, dear.” The Colonel dunks his hair, looking every bit the gothic prince. ”Don’t let me keep you.”  
  
Udo wordlessly picks up the sponge, and leans down to rub it over the Colonel’s shoulders. The Colonel stiffens in surprise, before relaxing under the touch. He sighs softly, closing his eyes as the sponge slides over his neck. There is something to treasure in this, Udo thinks, priding himself on how the dirt melts away, leaving sickly pale skin in its wake. The Colonel lies absolutely still, allowing Udo to scrub down his arms, perfectly engrossed in his work.  
  
”Thank you, you’re an absolute treasure.” He mumbles, a calm smile on his face. It never occurs to Udo to consider this inappropriate; he’s done this a few times before, when the Colonel was ill. Besides, Udo is in complete control. The fever ticks up, making it hard to think of more than one thing at a time.  
  
The nightshirt is far too big on the Colonel, though it does nothing to ruin the small scraps of beauty that remain. His own hangs off of Udo’s frame like a ghost. The buttons are lacy and complicated. His head is light, and the buttons keep slipping through his fingers. The Colonel smiles, leaning down to fix it. Udo blushes, slightly ashamed at his inability to do up a shirt.  
  
He makes up for it by rushing off to the liquor cabinet for a bottle of Eiswein, not giving a damn about the cost. The fatherland owes him this much, and he’s not letting his officer drink plain water.  
  
The taste of beef is enough to make him doubt reality. Swabian tastes may be simple, but to a starved soldier, it’s as good as the Hotel Sacher. Udo scarfs his portion down with enthusiasm, stopping only to catch his breath. The Colonel eats with the practised manner of a gentleman. None of them say much, until the plates have been picked clean.  
  
”I never knew you could cook.” Udo gathers the dishes, dunking them in the tub.  
  
”I never knew you to steal wine.” The Colonel sighs, swabbing the table with a kitchen towel.  
  
Udo purses his lips. ”Are you still thinkin’ of the stiff?”  
  
”It’s regrettable, but I suppose there are more important things to worry about.” The Colonel glances at Udo’s eye. ”How are you feeling?”  
  
”A little chilly, but that’s probably just the grub.”  
  
The Colonel purses his lips. He places his hand against Udo’s forehead, regarding him with a look of defeat. ”You’re very warm, dear. I’ll get the laundry done; you go lie down.”

  
The sofa is soft and springy. It takes Udo a while to find a position where his eye isn’t being crushed, but once he does, sleep comes easy.  
  
He dreams of a cold room, cold snow, and something even colder that supposedly passes for coffee. A source of heat arrives with brown-grey bandages, nudging his shoulder. Hauptmann Winzig’s eyes are hollow and weary, though the ghost of a smile lingers over his lips for a brief second. His hand is cool against the bandage.  
  
”Be kind, Kjars...” Udo mumbles, faintly recalling their brief truces.  
  
”I’ll be as gentle as I can.” The voice is higher-pitched and softer, and does not belong to Winzig. Udo’s eyes open to see the Colonel leaning over him. ”But my name isn’t Kjars, I’m afraid.”  
  
Memories of the past few days flood over Udo like a wave. He rubs his better eye. ”Of course not, Mein Herr.”  
  
The Colonel picks up a first-aid tin, and sets to disinfecting his hands. ”I’m sorry to have reminded you of him. Given the, ah, circumstances.”  
  
”It’s alright. I’ve known worse men.” Udo searches his brain for a colorful epithet by which to describe the man, but draws a complete blank. ”He was kind enough to swap my bandages. Gave me hell if I let it get sticky, too. Was a bit like you, in that way.” He smiles wryly.  
  
The Colonel nods deeply, digging his eyes into the floor. ”Pardon me for asking, and stop me if I’m taking liberties. But was he … how was he doing?”  
  
”When I last left him?” Udo’s smile shrinks into a frown. ”He was pissed. Really, really pissed.” The Colonel answers him with a silent, understanding nod.  
  
“I mean, more pissed than I’ve ever seen him. And I’ve seen way too much o’that, with him bein’ Hauptmann and all.”  
  
“He made Hauptmann?” The Colonel raises his eyebrow.  
  
“Yup. It didn’t make him shut up, though. Course, he kinda gave up on being quiet when his hands went.”  
  
”His hands?”  
  
”Yep, shot up like Swiss cheese. Medic saved enough for combat duty, but his piano days are over. Hasn’t stopped shouting since.”  
  
The Colonel grows silent. He slumps forward, rummaging through the box. ”But he did care for you?”  
  
”As far as cellmates go, I could have done worse. Used to lend me his coat.” Udo sighs, recalling the smell of morphine and tobacco. He winces as the Colonel applies cotton, gathering up every last drop of pus, pressing lightly to drain the abscess.  
  
”I’m sorry to hear that. It seems as if you two were close. I really expected better from him ...”  
  
Udo blushes in response, shifting his gaze to the window.  
  
The Colonel frowns, and says nothing. He smooths Udo’s hair, gently lifting it aside to place gauze over the wound. The bandage is wrapped tightly against Udo’s head, two fingers making sure that it isn’t too tight. The Colonel gently steers Udo up the stairs, towards the bed, pushing him under the covers and tucking him in.  
  
Everything feels surreal. The bed is soft, the fire is warm—when was anything last warm? The Colonel is warm. Udo inches closer, inhaling the smell of lavender soap and shaving cream. It’s not real, he decides; he must have fallen asleep on the couch, or more likely, in a bush by the road. Today has been far too good to be tangible. An arm is slung around his chest, and he realises that he is too sleepy to care if it belongs to Winzig or Abdul.  
  
\--------  
  
They set out in the morning. The camp has little in the way of friends or food, but the town offers them a trucking job to an adjacent city, which brings them a little farther. Unfortunately, they’re not allowed to keep the truck. Marching without a troop is a new, confusing experience, though the Colonel’s hand on his shoulder gives Udo something to steady his mind against.  
  
Not long after, they end up having to spend the night outside. The cold keeps them separate for exactly two minutes, before Udo rolls over to face his partner. He holds his arms out, unsure of how to put his request into words. The Colonel draws him closer, tucking him into his coat. Udo senses a concerned frown, and jokes about being a hot-water bottle. At least the fever is being helpful to someone.  
  
They hardly talk about the past. ’Captivity’ is enough for both of them. After they get their hands on some left over schnapps, Udo makes the mistake of asking. He ends up near-smothered in a silent embrace, and keeps quiet.  
  
Autumn sees them covering four more camps. It’s a thankless pursuit, more trouble than it’s worth. They show their papers, ask obediently, and leave as soon as suspicions are confirmed: no sign of their quarry. None of them are very fond of the occupying forces. The Colonel doesn’t even ask for medical supplies, as he does in the villages.  
  
Come winter, the eye starts getting worse. The pressure grows heavier, and the leakage has to be continually wiped. Some days, the fever gets so high that he can hardly hear the Colonel, and has to drunkenly nod, hoping that the Colonel won’t notice. The Colonel does notice, and makes him take medication. It helps, but they run out by the end of January.  
  
Near March, it gets bad to the point where he collapses under the Colonel’s weight, shaking as he struggles to stand. The Colonel steadies him gently, clasping his shoulders to look at his eye. A deep frown tells Udo that it probably looks even worse than he imagines.  
  
”Dear.” The Colonel frowns. ”We’re going to stop in the next town. If they can’t help you, we’ll go to Berlin.”  
  
”But Rosen...?”  
  
The Colonel shakes his head sadly. ”We’ve covered at least eleven camps. I don’t think there’s anything more we can do.” He wipes a grain of sand from his eye.  
  
”Then, you’ll go on alone ...” Udo mumbles, teeth chattering.  
  
The Colonel shakes his head. He tugs Udo into his arms, hugging him as if they were the last people in the world. ”Es tut mir leid...” He mumbles into Udo’s hair. ”Es tut mir leid. I should never have let it get this bad.” He leans down, smoothing Udo’s hair with his thumb. “We should have given up sooner. You’re ill, and the season isn’t doing us any favours.”  
  
Udo shakes his head. He grabs hold of the Colonel’s lapels, locking their eyes together. ”I’m staying, Mein Herr. We’re no longer in the army. I have no reason to follow you, other than—” He trails off, biting his lip to keep from saying something that likely would be misinterpreted by every single civilian he’s ever met. ”A-anyway, I’m not going home until we’ve found Rosen.”  
  
”He’s not even your ... Oh, gott.” A tear rolls down the Colonel’s cheek. He wipes it off with his cuff, blinking to keep more tears at bay.  
  
”Listen, Mein Herr. If your knees are tired, then sure, we’ll go to Berlin. Find ourselves a hospital and get things looked at. But if there’s a camp near the next town, and there should be—and if it has any trace of Rosen, we’re gonna follow that.” He takes the Colonel’s hand, places it resolutely on his shoulder, and teeters, falling headfirst into the snow.  
  
The Colonel helps him up with a sombre expression, carefully patting the ice from his coat. He nods silently, taking Udo’s hand, squeezing it softly. His grip is firm and soft against the harsh winter cold. Udo smiles reassuringly, and the Colonel smiles back.  
  
Their pulse beats steadily on, linked by their hands. It makes the exhaustion less tangible—perhaps it is shared between them. They walk step-by-step, always adjusting to the other’s pace. The road enters a forest, blocking out the moonlight. Udo doesn’t flinch. The future has ceased to matter. He is holding the Colonel’s hand, and will gladly continue. Until their eyes fall out, until their knees cave in, until their lungs finally give out.  
  
Some lights are visible in the far-off distance. Things are getting hazy now, even through the better eye. The Colonel finds a log to sit on, tugging Udo down to lean on him. The Colonel’s body glows with heat, woolen overcoat just soft enough for a man to fall asleep against.  
  
Something whizzes through the air, hitting a nearby tree. The Colonel flinches, tensing up. Udo instinctively grabs at his coat.  
  
A small figure emerges from behind the tree. ”Sheesh, it’s just snow.”  
  
”We’re in no condition to fight, I’m afraid.” The Colonel frowns.  
  
"Right. That makes you my prisoners." The boy whistles, lighting a cigarette. He holds the match up to look at the two. ”Cripes, is that a Jew?”  
  
”My mother was Italian.” Udo barks with as much strength as he can muster.  
  
”You look like a Jew. Got the hook nose and the cheeks.” The boy shrugs. ”You look good for a Jew, though. Long hair and everything. Did you run away from camp?”  
  
”You sound awfully knowledgeable about these things.” The Colonel says, before Udo says anything.  
  
”I have to be.” The kid grins. ”I’ve been on the road for about six months now, give or take.”  
  
”Six months? That sounds rough, dear.” The Colonel frowns.  
  
The boy inhales with practised grace. ”Eh, you learn to survive. Anyway, it’s over now—- I got a steady job.” He takes an extended look at their coats. “Say, you in the army?”  
  
”Used to be.” Udo nods. ”War ended, though.”  
  
”That makes us colleagues.” The boy throws his hand out, regarding them with the jacked-up confidence of a small dog. ”Hans von Kavalier.”  
  
The Colonel takes his hand. Udo fails to suppress a smirk. After about two seconds, he bursts out laughing at the complete absurdity of the situation. The Colonel pats his back, but ends up smiling. ”Is that really your name?”  
  
”It’s good enough fer the Amis.” The boys raises his nose.  
  
”Fair enough.” Udo chuckles. ”Are you with them?”  
  
”Nah, the Brits.” The child coughs, leading the Colonel to frown. ”The Amis’ run the camp, though. That’s army life fer you.”  
  
Udo squints. ”What rank do you hold? It’s too dark to see yer stripes.” (It’s too dark for Udo to see much at all, but he’s loath to admit that).  
  
”Currently? Batman.” The boy puffs out his chest, hands planted firmly at his sides. ”To Ein Major. Herr Gonville. He practically runs this place.”  
  
The Colonel turns around to give Udo a happy, confused stare. Udo grins at him.  
  
”We can’t. It doesn’t have to be—we’ve already been disappointed by another Melvin two weeks back. Besides, they wouldn’t allow him to keep his rank.....” The Colonel mumbles, straightening his jacket. Udo shakes his head. He gets up on shaky legs, tugging at the Colonel’s hand.  
  
They step into heat and light, and the rest is a blur.  
  
(Major Gonville does in fact, not run the place, and is later soundly chewed out for a) allowing a child to blatantly fudge a clearly fake name, and b) employing a minor in exchange for cigarettes.)  
  



End file.
